


There's Something Strange About Pain

by bauhausModernism



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Possible Spoilers, Sadstuck, Self Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bauhausModernism/pseuds/bauhausModernism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Visiting Washington might have been a bad idea, you think. His bathroom tiles just had to be fucking white, didn’t they? You feel like just about the most idiotic guy in the world right about now, as you’re kneeling on the floor of your best friend’s bathroom at midnight, furiously scrubbing at red-stained tile with numbing arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's Something Strange About Pain

**Author's Note:**

> hey there, those who follow me on tumblr will probably recognise this, but yeah, here it is. i feel like i should mention this again even though i tagged it, but this deals heavily with self-harm, so if that triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, you probably shouldn't proceed any farther.

            There’s something strange about pain, you think.  It’s funny how the physical is easier to handle than the mental. You would think that containing the internal pain wouldn’t be so much of a burden as it actually was; but then again, you’d never had to deal with as much as you are right now.

 

            It certainly wasn’t as if you’d never been confronted with death before, but before it was always simply a subject of morbid fascination or the punchline to a cynical joke. Ironic. You almost hate that word now. It hits too close to home, makes you remember too many things that you would wish you could wash away along with the blood.

 

Yes, you knew about death before. But not like this. You’d never had to watch everyone you love meet end after terrible end, over and over again, doing everything you could to save them, but it was never enough; you were never fast enough, never good enough, always in the wrong place at the wrong time. You died so many times yourself. Death is not a sensation that a person usually goes on to remember, and the fact that you are probably the only person on this entire goddamn planet who has does things to your head. Ugly, ugly things, and you can never make it stop. Just like Jack Noir, just like every last fucking thing in that nightmare of a “game.” The thought of that hell being written off as nothing more than child’s play almost makes you want to laugh. It’s so ironic.

 

\---------- 

 

            Visiting Washington was a good idea, you think. Here, it’s not unusual to wear long sleeves all the time. Your friend seems to think it’s weird that you refuse to change around him, but you can see the change in his eyes when he brushes it off and you allow yourself an internal sigh of relief. And god do you love those eyes. Bright blue, like the ocean you’ve never gotten to see, like the sky you never take the time to look at. They’re a lot more vibrant in person and you realise that he is the thing that’s keeping you from going insane. You figure that you could probably spend a day just looking into his eyes and it’d be the most enjoyable thing you’d ever done in your life.

 

            You realise that he really is just like the ocean. Yet another thing you’ll never get to experience.

 

            Every time you remember that, you think it makes you die a little more inside.

 

\---------- 

 

            Visiting Washington might have been a bad idea, you think. His bathroom tiles just had to be fucking white, didn’t they? You feel like just about the most idiotic guy in the world right about now, as you’re kneeling on the floor of your best friend’s bathroom at midnight furiously scrubbing at red-stained tile with numbing arms. You look down and see blood seeping through the toilet paper you wrapped around your thigh to serve as a bandage, slowly dripping onto the floor, staining it even more. You curse under your breath and there was definitely not a hint of a whimper in your voice.

 

God, all you want right now is to fucking cry your eyes out, but you can’t. He would hear and he can’t find you here; he can’t know. He would hate you if he saw what a pussy you really were. You played the same damn game, but he’s still as sunshiney happy as he’s ever been, same as his sister. Everyone else is fine, so why are you so fucked up? You must just be weaker than them. You’re a disgrace to your brother.

 

You look up and for the first time ever you wish your best friend was somewhere else.

 

\----------

 

            This must be the calm before the storm, you think. For a long time, he stands there, those beautiful blue eyes widened into bright pools of worry and guilt and shock. You don’t know what to say. There’s really no way to explain this away. You’re grateful when he opens his mouth so you don't have to.

 

            “W-what the hell, man?”

 

            The wavering is a quality that sounds strange in his voice. It’s a shock in your mind just to hear him being anything but bubbly happy or indignant. There’s just so much _emotion_  it’s overwhelming and suddenly a choked sob forces itself from your throat. It hurts; you didn’t even know it was coming.

 

            That’s when the world starts to blur around you. You feel a pair of surprisingly strong arms wrapped around you and the soft cotton of a Ghostbusters t-shirt against your face and all you can smell is the fucking aftershave he always wears because he thinks it makes him manly and you just  _can’t._ It was a soft hiccup, and then another, and another until you were clinging to him like the lifeline that he was as you sobbed into his chest. God, you’re so weak. Why is he holding you tighter? Why is he petting your hair and kissing your head when he hates you? It’s probably one of his idiotic and honestly pretty dickish pranks and the thought just brings on a new round of tears.

 

            When your cries fade after a while, you think you hear him say something. You’re too tired to hear it, the world going dark around the corners. All you can hear is your name on his lips as you slump against his chest before darkness envelops you.

 

\---------- 

 

            You have no idea what time it is when you wake up, and you don’t even know quite where you are. You blink slowly, the ceiling disappearing and reappearing a few times before you turn your head to the side and realise where you are.

 

            There’s that beautiful boy again, peacefully dozing away next to you. He’s supposed to hate you, so what the fuck is going on? Your eyes fly open and you try to jump out of bed, but as soon as you set foot on the ground your thigh burns with pain and you fall to the floor. When you look up, he’s looking over at the edge of the bed at you.

 

            “Dude, what are you doing? You’re gonna reopen your cuts and I worked hard on fixing your leg up last night!” he complains with a familiar pout and you don’t know if it makes you want to laugh or cry. Before you can decide he’s shaking his head and sitting down next to you on the ground.

 

            “Seriously, man, what’s up? I mean… you know you can come to me about anything, right? Wouldn't talking it out be a better solution than…” He trails off, shaking his head again and biting his lip in that way you know he does when he’s upset.

 

            “Well, shit, sorry I didn't want you ta see what a fuckin’ pussy I am. My bad, I’ll let you know next time I’m lookin’ ta give you a chance ta hate me,” you bite back with more venom than you knew you could even manage to put into your voice, instantly regretting it. You desperately wish you had your shades to hide behind.

 

            “See what a – what the  _fuck_  would I think that for? I mean, god, all I can see is a guy with a whole hell of a lot of problems he’s not choosing to acknowledge! Come on, man, I care about you, seriously. If something’s bothering you then just say it and then you wouldn't have to… to do  _this_  to yourself!”

 

            “Dude, no, just… stop, okay? The problem is I’m a goddamn idiot with a fucked up head that you don’t need ta be wastin’ your time on. Why don't you just stop fuckin’ pretendin’ you care an’ go gossip about the real Dave Strider ta Rose an’ call it a fuckin’ day?”

 

            “Oh my god, shut up. Seriously, where are you getting this stuff? You’re not an idiot, okay? You can talk to me, seriously, that’s what friends do. I just want to help you through this because you’re just… my best friend in the world, okay? There’s nothing that can change that. All I want is to help you, since you  _obviously_  need it!”

 

            “I don’t need help. Fuck that shit. I just can’t let go of shit. Everybody else already moved on, so whatever. You don’t need a blast to the past just because I can’t fuckin’ get my shit together.”

 

            “Dave, Jesus, what the hell is up with you? What do I have to do to convince you I don't hate you?”

 

            “Check into a goddamn looney bin, because I can’t believe that anybody out there wouldn't hate someone like me.”

 

            “What if I told you I loved you?”

 

            For a moment, you forget how to breathe. There is just no way that the boy that's keeping you going, your sparkling ocean, your wide open sky, just said that he loved you. No way in hell. If this is a prank, you think that he might just be the worst person to ever live.

 

            You would still love him, though. You’re not sure how you feel about that.

 

            “I’d tell you to stop fuckin’ lyin’ and drop this shitty excuse for a prank.”

 

            “Dave, I’m really serious. Honestly, I don't know how long I’ve felt like this, but I’m not lying… I didn't know how to tell you, but now I think you need to know.”

 

            “Why?”

 

            “Because I know you don't  _want_  me to hate you. I mean, this is what you want, right? Why won’t you just  _take_ it already?”

 

            “How do I know you ain’t lyin’ just like everybody else, huh? What if this is another one of your fuckin’ shitty pranks an’ when I say yes you’re gonna pie me in the face or some shit?”

 

            “How do you know that I am lying?”

 

            “I… I don't.”

 

            “Then you've got a fifty/fifty chance, right? I mean… I would take it, if it was me.”

 

            “Then you want me to say yes?”

 

            “I want you to do what’s best for you.”

 

            You have no fucking idea what’s best for you. You know what you  _want_ , but doing what you want usually ends badly. But still… this is definitely what you want. Like, you really, _really_  want this, you can’t even put it into words. Saying yes might be the best decision. If it turns out to be a prank, well, you figure you’ll do something about it when the time comes. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to just live in the moment for once.

 

            “I’ll fuckin’ kill you if this is a prank.”

 

            “It’s not, seriously.”

 

            “I’m… I’m trustin’ you here, okay, Egbert? Seriously, that ain’t easy for me to do.”

 

            “Dave, I promise, I’m absolutely and completely serious about this. Sometimes my pranks aren’t the best, but… I would never joke about something like this!”

 

            You have to take a deep breath after that. Every last one of his words are just so damn  _heartfelt_  and  _sincere_  that you can’t help but believe him. And god do you want to believe him. If you want nothing else in this world, you want to believe him when he says that he loves you. It’s like a dream come true.

 

            You haven’t had a good dream in a long time.

 

 

            “Well… okay, fine. But seriously, Egbert, if this is a prank-“

 

            “Oh my god, Dave, shut up. Jesus, you worry way too much. So just stop talking and just… fucking let yourself be happy!”

 

            You only nod in reply. You figure it’s good enough when he’s got that wide grin of his stretched across his face. That damn smile is so infectious. It’s why he’s the only person you really smile around.

 

            “Am I allowed to talk to say I love you too?”

 

            “Hehe, yeah, of course you can. You still have to shut up to kiss me.”

 

            You chuckle and roll your eyes at him, and the feeling of laughing is refreshing. His grin somehow widens as he almost hesitantly leans in close to you. You close the distance between you and you think that maybe you can finally start to forget.


End file.
